


Three

by litspinels



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2019-10-22 09:10:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17659886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litspinels/pseuds/litspinels





	Three

_My property, including my house, and all that remains in it, I bequeath to both Shinya Kogami and Akane Tsunemori, to do as they will. I merely request that they shall not dispose inappropriately the books that I have collected over the years, and that they, in turn, add more to the collection._

The click of a button told him there was no more to be heard of the recording, Kogami looked out the window, down the camp site where the tents were put up last time they visited. None today, apparently, as the clouds above gathered and the skies darkened; a mirror of the atmosphere inside the car.

“Generally speaking, enforcers are not allowed to own property. Their occupation prevents them from enjoying it, and technically speaking, by law, they have no rights.”

He turned abruptly at the person who broke the silence. Both hands on the steering wheel, Akane’s voice was steady; no sign of the person who stood next to him a few days ago, whose hand he held when tears streamed down her face.

“It is also by law, that a person’s Last Will and Testament is to be treated as law. There used to be a clause stating that the exception is that if the contents are unlawful, however, it was removed when proven unnecessary; people don’t dare write unlawful things in their wills for obvious reasons.”

She looked at him, and he watched the column of her throat as she swallowed, her shoulders relaxed with a deep exhale. “It is therefore, unlawful, not to grant Professor Saiga’s wishes. The transfer of title has been done at the same time his death certificate was printed. You now own half of this place.”

He did not reply. Before the turn, the wooden sign still stood, warning possible trespassers. It didn’t look like anyone had tried; in fact, the driveway leading up to the property wasn’t as easy to pass through, with its overgrown weeds and grass spilling over the dirt road. A person who did not frequent this place would probably not notice the road existed, and that it led somewhere.

“This is not to be treated as a privilege. I can’t guarantee when the next time I can secure permission to take you here.”

The rain fell hard when he was only a few steps away from the car. Sprinting to the other side he pulled Akane beneath his jacket as they dashed to the front door, their entrance slightly delayed as her fingers shook while fumbling for the keys.

***

“Coffee?”

She stood by the window, vaguely aware of his voice. Her reflection looked back at her, though she was more focused on the water running down the glass in small streams, or the trees outside, swaying slightly with the wind. He appeared behind her, putting a towel over her shoulders. Startled, it was as if she had just heard his voice.

“What?”

“I bought coffee. I should brew it.”

He had a small towel on his head and had taken off his jacket. His necktie was soaked, she noticed, and was about to comment when he began to rub her arms. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she replied with a faint smile, turning her gaze on the couch she had sat on a few years ago. She could tell he knew where her eyes went, though he did not think further of it, it seemed, and walked to the table to make some coffee.

***

“Looks like it’s been well kept.”

The steam hit her eyes and his voice brought her to present; her first instinct was to inhale and let the scent of coffee wake her senses; he stood before her, holding her cup while he sipped on his.

“Since he entered the facility there were drones assigned to maintain this place. I’m unsure if it’s some sort of contract he had with Sybil, or if it was just something he already had in mind when he turned himself in...” Her voice drifted, like she was getting lost in thought but was completely aware of it.

“How’s the coffee?”

“It’s good.”

He raised a brow, observing the distant look in her eyes. “You haven’t tasted it.”

“Oh,” she chuckled, trying to hide her own surprise. “Right.” The hot liquid passed her lips and drew a line down the inside of her throat, and she remembered Professor Saiga’s confident smirk while she expressed her awe at his prowess, years ago, in the very same spot across from where she sat.

“How’s the coffee?” he asked again.

She paused for a moment, finally feeling like her mind had finally caught up with her body. “It’s good.”

***

“The bedroom’s pretty big. It has another library, apparently.”

He heard her voice call from the other end of the floor. Following her, he passed by the room he had slept in when he stayed over to track Makishima, and saw that it had been turned into a small storage room of old encyclopedias and reference books. It wasn’t even a library—no shelves or bookcases, just one on top of the other on the floor.

“What’s that?”

“Another library,” he smiled, opening the door for her to see. “I’m sure you can make use of these, whenever you need them.”

Instead of looking in his eyes her gaze fell to the towel on his shoulders, and on the fabric that still stuck to his skin. The towel she draped around her kept her warm, at least. She remembered it was he who practically shielded her from the downpour.

“They’re yours too.”

He chuckled, walking to the bedroom with hands in his pockets. It was then that she noticed he would have had a cigarette by now, and with wonder she followed in his wake, aching to ask.

***

“Less reference books, more fiction.”

He voiced out his observations while skimming through the titles on the shelves. Her knees shook, not from the cold but from something else entirely, but she did not dare sit on the bed, or on the comfortable-looking couch by the window.

“I can imagine he would read before going to bed. I’m sure he’s read all those.”

“These,” he pointed at the titles in front of him, “were the ones he re-reads. They look more worn than the others.”

“Have you read any of them?” she approached, certain her legs would give way any moment.

“No. You should, though.” he looked down and saw her lips quiver right before she turned to face him, her back against the shelf.

“I’m surprised the books don’t interest you,” she confessed, crossing her arms and watching the light hit the side of his face when he made his way to the door.

 He did not turn at her remark. “No, I’m not.”

“I can bring some for you, if you want.”

He pulled on his neck tie, stretching his neck from one side to another. “You can have it all, I don’t mind.”

“Why?”

“I won’t have much use for it. For them, or for this—“ he waved his hand in the air. Turning to face her he put the damp neck tie in his pocket, and only then did he realize he hadn’t had a smoke ever since they got here.

He thinks he should have been desperate for one right now.

Instead she looked softly at him, smiling. “Is it because you don’t think rights of latent criminals won’t improve?”

His fingers wrapped around the packet as a chuckle escapes his lips. “You know me.”

“And you also think you don’t deserve it.”

“You are too optimistic,” he gave up, fingers leaving his pocket as he took one, two, three steps, in wide strides, till he stood before her. She did not move, rather, she looked up and told him with her eyes that he had every right to feel that way.

She reached for the ends of the towel on his neck, pulling him down gently, till he could look down and get away with a glance beneath the towel and the damp fabric and the shape of her breasts; only to be distracted by her lips brushing against his and he really, really needs a smoke right now.

“Anything else you don’t think you deserve?”

He laughed out loud, both hands planted on the shelf to keep his balance. No part of her face found his reaction funny at all. He wished bitterly that it wasn’t so, except it was, and he knew where this was going, only he was resisting it, with all his might.

“Nothing else, so far.”

He lied, of course. But he wasn’t going to deny himself the feel of her lips, closing over his, or her mouth opening, welcoming his tongue to slip inside and join hers. How cruel, he thought, stepping forward and pinning her against the shelf, his mind on overdrive; _I don’t deserve you_.

Akane pulled back, cupping his face in her hands. She brushed away his still damp hair to make room for her lips on his forehead, whispering, pleading.

“Then touch me.”

***

They abandoned the shelf in favor of stripping their clothes as they walked blindly towards the bed, towels discarded as her fingers played with his hair while he moans her name in between kisses. A part of him wishes he had not set foot on this house, not tonight, but many years ago when he took her to see Saiga; he pushes aside the guilt at the same time he discards her underwear and slips his fingers inside of her, forgets his self-loathing when her fingers wrap around his shaft, slowly him as if they had been doing this for as long as they remembered.

They have never done this before, he reminds himself.

He lowers her to the bed, leaves her mouth and trails kisses on the side of her neck, settles in between her legs and his fingers move, listening to her breath hitch, her moans increasing in volume. He thinks this is only possible because she wants him, because she wants him as much as he does her, because there was no way she would walk away from this unsatisfied, because he would never let it

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispers against his shoulders when he comes back to her lips. He kisses her, and he could cry knowing he feels just the same, knowing nothing and still wanting this, doing this. He enters her slowly, one elbow planted on the bed and the other cradling her head. Her lips part when he’s buried to the hilt, and her look of discomfort broke him. It was too late to hide from her and that’s when her tears came.

“Do you not want me?” she asked, both hands on his face.

“I do,” he withdrew slowly, pushing back in, feeling her walls tight on him. “I do,” he pleaded, closing his eyes; slow, shallow thrusts begging to hear her moan again.

“I want you,” he whispered against her lips, “I want all of you, and I want more.”

When he opened his eyes she wasn’t crying; she pulled him in, wrapping her arms, her legs, holding him while he gradually picked up his speed. He hears her moan for the first time since he had entered her, it fuels his desire, his body aching to hear more.

 _Tell me it doesn’t hurt anymore_.

He doesn’t say it, he merely begs her with a passionate kiss; their skin did not cool, rainwater replaced sweat. She responds, she pants, she breathes and mewls and whimpers his name. He thrusts purposely, letting her feel every inch of him, filling her, consuming her, taking her higher.

She comes in his arms, back arching off the bed and flush against his chest. He holds her and pushes on, the sight alone bringing him to completion as he buries his head on the crook of her neck, her name escaping in broken syllables from his lips. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow till he had emptied himself inside, and she embraced him like he didn’t weigh like anything on top of her, kissed him like he didn’t give her any sort of pain, loved him, loved him even when it was over.

***

It wasn’t so cold anymore, he realized, taking a long drag from his cigarette and watching her fingers trace the scars on his chest. He thinks she really likes doing that—he couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t touch him there when she had the chance. Not that he was complaining. He loved the feel of her fingers; he loved the feel of her, period.

They had not talked openly after Professor Saiga’s funeral. It wasn’t necessary. They were lonely, and they needed to feel it on their own. They respected each other that much. Saiga had been part of Kogami’s life longer than she had been in his, but more recently Saiga had been there for her when he couldn’t. They were his students, and now he had given them something a father would give to his children, and in turn they gave each other what they denied for so long.

He knew it would be a while before they would return here, if they ever could. What they owned they couldn’t keep. Not together, anyway. And if he wasn’t going to have this with her, he wasn’t going to have anything at all.

He felt guilty now that he had to put his cigarette out on the night stand, with no ash tray except the opened packet of his Spinels.

“I’m sorry for our loss,” he said, remembering where they were.

Akane nodded, closing her eyes as she kissed the scar nearest his heart.


End file.
